


falling forward (back into orbit)

by blackkat



Series: Agen Kolar prompts [3]
Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fix-It, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, M/M, Self-Sacrifice, Time Loop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-11
Updated: 2020-03-11
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:07:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23101429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackkat/pseuds/blackkat
Summary: Hevy already knows how this goes.
Relationships: CT-782 | Hevy/Agen Kolar
Series: Agen Kolar prompts [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1941664
Comments: 41
Kudos: 819
Collections: Jedi Journals, Star Wars Alternate Universes, Star Wars The Clone Wars





	falling forward (back into orbit)

**Author's Note:**

> For the prompt: Hevy/Agen groundhog day where he relives the last few days until he catches the right moment for Agen to explode the problem and Domino lives. Yay!

Hevy already knows how this goes.

It’s a boring week. The only spot of excitement is a Jedi general landing briefly to resupply before he heads back to the Outer Rim, and then nothing. A meteor shower, another, a comet passing close, but the monitor stays quiet. Rishi Station stays quiet. Fives gripes, and Echo lectures, and Cutup teases, and Droidbait cleans his blaster obsessively, even though he’s never actually fired it.

(Even though he’s barely going to be able to get a shot off before he’s dead.)

The first time this week happened, Hevy had no idea anything was going to happen except more of the same. The second time, he’d thought it was a strange dream that gave him just a little too much déjà vu to be comfortable. The third time—

He’d tried to change things, but it just dumped him right back here. Ended with him on the ground beside the explosives, trigger in his hand, droids and blasters all around him. Brought him to one more grating, garbled, “Do we take prisoners?”

Echo and Fives are outside, along with Commander Cody and Captain Rex. Kamino is beyond them, vulnerable, full of clones. The closest thing they have to a home planet, and even if it’s not much, it’s _theirs_.

“I don’t,” Hevy says, and pushes the detonator. He doesn’t regret it.

With a jerk and a gasp and a groan, Hevy tumbles out of his bunk, slams down into the cold floor and just tries to breathe for a moment. The explosion is bright behind his eyelids, and he can feel the weight of his armor, the press of a blaster against his skull. The voice—

But he’s awake. He’s alive. If he looks, he’s absolutely sure it’s going to be the beginning of the week for the fourth time.

This is starting to get a little tiresome.

“All right there, vod?” Cutup asks, amused, as he leans over the edge of his bunk to look down at Hevy. “You can't be having nightmares. We haven’t even been in a single fight yet.”

 _You're going to get eaten by a Rishi eel_ , Hevy thinks, without opening his eyes. The pace of his heart hasn’t slowed yet. _And no matter how well I know that, I can't stop it_.

The first time, it was one shock on top of all the others. Every time after, it’s gotten more horrifying. Hevy doesn’t know if he can try to stop it and just _fail_ again.

Maybe Bric was right about Domino. They definitely don’t come out of their first fight looking rosy.

“My nightmares are all about your snoring,” Hevy retorts, and finally pushes to his feet. A glance at the date on the wall shows that it’s definitely the beginning of the week. Again. For the fourth time.

Maybe this time, Hevy thinks a little wildly, he can just turn off the all-clear beacon right now, call the fleet here. That would solve a hell of a lot of problems. Even if it gets him written up—

Before he can even take so much as a step, though, Fives bursts through the bunkroom door, only halfway dressed in his armor. He looks gleefully excited, which is different enough from his normal look of frustrated boredom that it’s almost shocking. “Come _on_!” he crows. “There’s a kriffing _general_ here, you space-slugs! If we impress him, maybe he’ll want to recruit us!”

The Jedi. Hevy frowns, even as Cutup scoffs, and—

Well. That’s less dramatic than turning off the all-clear beacon and causing a panic in the fleet, right? Probably the sort of thing an ARC trooper would do, before acting on his own.

“Like any Jedi would notice _you_ ,” Cutup says, but he slides down from his bunk anyway. “He’s got Commander Doom with him. Like hell he’s going to look at any of us.”

“What are you going to do to impress him, anyway?” Hevy asks, dry. “You can't even beat me at arm wrestling, Fives.”

Fives rolls his eyes, pulling the rest of his armor on. “Oh, come on, it’s our _one_ chance. He said something to Commander Doom about sparring, and if we’re in the gym when he gets there, we could show him what we can do.”

“Wheeze on the mat after Echo pins you?” Hevy asks, and snickers when Fives throws his helmet at him with a sound of indignation. He catches it, then tosses it back, and Fives scowls at him as he tucks it under his arm.

“Leave me out of this,” Echo says, not lifting his head from the pillow. “We have six hours before we’re on shift, let me _sleep_.”

With a chuckle, Cutup pulls his own armor on, then slings an arm around Fives's neck. “Come on, vod, let’s get some rations and then figure it out. The general has to eat, too. Maybe you can show off how many pieces of protein bar you can fit in your mouth at once.”

“Yeah, yeah, you’ll all be laughing when I'm on the ship out of here with a _Jedi general_ and you’re still cooling your heels in the most boring base in the galaxy.” Fives lets Cutup haul him away, craning his head back to look at Hevy as they hit the door. “Hevy, come on.”

Hevy shakes his head. “I’ll catch up later,” he says. Fives just shrugs, waving him off, and they disappear towards the miss.

Just like every time before. Except Hevy normally goes with them.

“You okay, Hevy?” Droidbait asks, lowing his datapad and rolling up on one elbow to look at him. His eyes are worried, and Hevy thinks of his body in the entrance, casually abandoned, and swallows.

“Bad dreams,” he says roughly. “Going to go find a punching bag.”

“Not Fives, please,” Echo says, though he’s opened his eyes and is watching Hevy, too. “He’ll whine if you pick on him.”

Hevy snorts. “If I pick on him, he deserves it,” he says, and Echo rolls his eyes but doesn’t argue. He just closes his eyes again, and Hevy marches out of the room, nerves curling in his stomach.

He didn’t lie, technically. If the general is going to be sparring, that means he’ll be in the station’s gym. If Hevy can catch him there, maybe slip past Doom, or convince Doom to introduce him—

Jedi are supposed to know about weird things. Hevy can tell him about dying, over and over, and waking up again a week before it happens, and he’ll know what to do, right? That’s Jedi weirdness.

Hevy has no idea just what weirdness falls under the header of “Jedi-specific weirdness”, but he’s got to hope this counts.

When he slips into the quiet gym, though, there’s no sign of Doom. No sign of the regular rounds of troopers working out, either. It’s not empty, though; there’s a single figure, a man in brown robes kneeling in the very center of the mats, hands on his knees, head bent.

Hevy never got a good look at him, before; first he was trying to figure out if all of this was a dream, and then he was trying to figure out what he could do to save the station, and then—

Well. It’s different, that’s the main thing, to be so close to a Jedi. Hevy's not sure what he was expecting, but a Zabrak wasn’t it. He’s dark-skinned, tattooed, with his hair long and unbound, and there's a—a _feel_ around him.

Hevy has never looked at anyone and felt calmer before, but it’s like there’s more oxygen around the general, making it easier to fill his lungs.

The Jedi's eyes are closed, though, and Hevy hesitates. He’s never been around a Jedi before, has absolutely no idea how to approach him. No idea if he’ll welcome it, or what he’s doing sitting in the training hall, or—

“You can come in,” the Jedi says without opening his eyes. “The hall is still open.”

“Oh,” Hevy says, and steels himself. Takes a breath, and steps in, sealing and locking the door behind him. He doesn’t want this conversation interrupted. “Sorry to disturb you, sir.”

The Jedi finally moves, lifting his head. His eyes are dark, steady when they land on Hevy, and his expression is considering, but not wary.

“You haven’t,” he says, and comes to his feet in a way that strikes Hevy as vaguely unnerving, almost liquid, perfectly aware of every inch of himself. Some of the Mandalorian trainers move like that, and some of the older clones, but not a lot of people. It’s entirely present in the way the Jedi turns to face him, though, stern and straight, lightsaber on his belt all too visible.

Abruptly, Hevy realizes that locking himself into a room without warning the general is probably a bad look. Maybe he didn’t actually think this through.

Quickly, he takes a step back, raising his hands. “Sir, I just need to talk to you. I didn’t want anyone walking in on us, that’s all. I'm—CT-782—”

“Name?” the general asks, and approaches with even, unhurried steps. He still has a hand near his lightsaber, and there’s nowhere for Hevy to go with the door at his back. He freezes, and the Jedi are strange, an uncertain force that’s able to tear across fronts and change the outcomes of battles and sense the future—

“Hevy, sir,” he manages, and the Jedi inclines his head, tattooed horns catching the light.

“I am Jedi Master Agen Kolar,” he says, and comes to a stop just a little too close. Glances over, and the switches on the opposite wall turn without a hand anywhere near them, brining the lights up. In the glow, Hevy has to swallow, because that _feeling_ is still around him. Something soothing, calm, and Hevy's never been one for sitting on his ass and kicking back, but—this eases something in his chest. The part that can't get away from the nightmares, maybe, or the part that remembers _do we take prisoners_ whenever he closes his eyes.

“Sir,” Hevy says, rough in his throat. “Is it true that Jedi can see the future?”

Agen cocks his head, hair sliding over his shoulder. “Yes,” he says without pause. “All of us, to varying degrees. Not always reliably or accurately, however.”

Hevy swallows, and he’s suddenly so kriffing _tired_. Like he’s been awake for all the days he’s had to relieve, awake and on edge and moving, and he’s seen Cutup and Droidbait die over and _karking over_ , until he can't look at them without thinking about their bodies on the ground—

“I see,” Agen says, grave, and suddenly a hand is on the back of Hevy's neck, right over the curve of his tattoo. Hevy is too startled to do a single kriffing thing—all he can do is let the Jedi general pull him forward, until Hevy can drop his head on Agen’s shoulder. Automatically, Hevy's hands come up, fisting in rough brown cloth, and his next exhale _shakes_.

Hevy hates this. He _hates_ this. He’s not weak. Three times now he’s pushed the trigger, seen the world dissolve into flames, and he’d do it again. He’s _not_ weak.

The fingers curled around the back of his neck don’t waver. “There is no weakness in grief,” Agen says, and it should be stern, but—it’s just steady. “Even for yourself.”

Hevy's whole world has been a loop played on repeat the last few weeks. Steady is worth a hell of a lot right now.

“It hasn’t even _happened_ yet,” Hevy says, angry at himself. “It’s going to be a karking _week_ before they get here, but—”

“It keeps happening,” Agen finishes for him. His fingers slide into Hevy's hair, and Hevy's been too twitchy to touch his batches since this loop started, too angry and unsettled, so the contact is a relief. “How does it end?”

Not even an _are you sure_. Belief, immediate and unquestioning. Hevy's breath rattles in his lungs, and he grips Agen's robes for one more moment before he pushes upright. Straightens, but Agen's hand stays where it is, and Hevy is pathetically grateful for it.

“With me blowing up the station,” Hevy says roughly. “To shut off the all-clear beacon, and get rid of the droids.”

Agen inclines his head. “While you're still inside of it,” he says, and Hevy laughs, short and ragged.

“The damned detonator never works right,” he says, and it’s an impossible relief to say it outright. To put it out in the open, without the fear that his batchmates will think the quiet out here’s finally driven him insane.

“You are very brave,” Agen says, quiet. “Let us find Commander Doom and discuss this. Our departure will have to be delayed.”

Agen's going to stay. Hevy breathes out, grins. It’s all teeth. “Sir. _Thank you_.”

Agen inclines his head. “We can deal with battle droids, Hevy,” he says, and then cocks his head again. “You’re new. From Kamino.”

Hevy nods. “Me and the rest of Domino Squad just landed a few months ago, sir. first posting.”

Agen grunts, then turns. The door opens for him, without so much as a touch to the pad, and Hevy gives it a sideways look as he follows Agen. “Sir, have you ever—do things like this _happen_?”

Agen is silent for a moment, boots quiet on the plating. “I have never heard of it,” he says. “However, everything that happens is the will of the Force. If you are here to warn us, I will accept your warning without hesitation, especially coming from a warrior.”

Warrior. Hevy has to swallow hard. “I just wanted to save Domino Squad,” he says, “and Kamino.”

“Yes,” Agen agrees, set. “You are very brave.” He lifts his head, then turns down a different hall, and says, “Doom. There are battle droids coming.”

Doom, to his credit, hardly even blinks. He takes one look at Hevy, then refocuses on his general, and says, “When, sir?”

“The end of this week,” Agen says, and glances at Hevy.

“They’ll look like a meteor shower, when they land,” Hevy supplies.

Doom gives a faintly raised brow, but otherwise doesn’t react, just nods. “Generals Kenobi and Skywalker are scheduled to send an inspection team soon,” he says. “Should I call them in?”

“No,” Agen says coolly. “I don’t want to tip off the Separatists that we know. Let them come.”

Hevy almost wants to laugh. A general, on their side. A _Jedi_. He knows what the brothers back on Kamino say about Jedi, when they get rotated through for ARC training or command track. This will be enough to change things.

With a short nod, Doom brings up his communicator. “I’ll send the ship off on schedule,” he says. “Have it wait behind the planet. If they're watching, they’ll think things are going right to schedule.”

“Thank you.” Agen glances back, meeting Hevy's gaze for one moment, then looks forward again. The line of his shoulders is straight and solid. “Also, please make arrangements to have…” He pauses, then looks at Hevy again.

Some knot of excitement and disbelief pulls tight in Hevy's stomach. “Domino,” he supplies.

Agen inclines his head in thanks. “Have Domino Squad transferred to my personal company,” he says.

This, of all things, makes Doom hesitate. He looks from Agen to Hevy, brows rising, and then says, “Sir, you don’t _have_ a personal company. You refused it last time the GAR tried to assign one.”

“Then Domino will be a good start,” Agen says, unbothered. “Hevy, you will be commander. Doom, please keep me updated. I will speak to Sergeant O’Niner.” He pauses, while Doom continues, and Hevy comes to a stop beside him, head still spinning. _Commander_. He can't quite wrap his head around it.

“Sir,” he says. “I haven’t—I'm just past being a cadet.”

“Yes,” Agen says, watching him. Steps closer, and there's a weight to him, something that settles against Hevy's bones. “You are. But you made a choice to sacrifice yourself for your men that many commanders would have hesitated to feel. How many times have you made it now, Hevy?”

“Three times,” Hevy says after a long moment. Can feel his heartbeat, high up in his throat, as Agen smiles, just faintly.

“You are what I admire in a warrior,” he says. “Jedi are peacekeepers, but we are fighters as well. Sacrifice in battle is necessary, at times. That you would commit so many times—I believe you will make a good commander.”

Hevy doesn’t know what to say to that. Instead, he offers, “We have to survive the droids first.”

Agen reaches up, presses two fingertips to the curl of Hevy's tattoo where it splits across his cheek. “We will,” he says, eyes narrowed, and Hevy can't even begin to remember how to breathe.

“You're doing something,” he says after a moment. “With the Force.”

Agen snorts, amused, and drops his hand. “The Force is always present,” he says. “You have a strange presence in it. As if it bends around you. It’s interesting.” Stepping away, he turns with a sweep of robes, and says, “Gather your squad and alert them that they will be leaving Rishi station with me. I will find you for details on the attack later.”

Hevy watches him disappear down the hall, and the relief is a heady, heavy thing in his chest, enough to make him want to slump against the wall and just _be_ for a moment.

Hells. Fives isn't going to believe this, he thinks, but—

He’s smiling as he turns to find Domino and tell them.

This time, it’s absolutely going to end differently, and Hevy can't wait.


End file.
